


Arrows & Mirrors

by Aussi18



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Character Death, Dark Evil Queen | Regina Mills, Dark Robin Hood, F/M, Mild Gore, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-05
Updated: 2018-10-05
Packaged: 2019-07-25 17:01:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,285
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16201820
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aussi18/pseuds/Aussi18
Summary: Robin Hood gives the queen what she most desires, and then some.





	Arrows & Mirrors

**Author's Note:**

> Dark EQ, Dark Robin  
> Major character death does not apply to Robin or EQ.  
> 

 

 

 

He’s standing there in front of her with the corpse of Snow White dangling over his shoulder, six arrows sticking through her chest, with this stupid expectant smirk on his face and for the life of her, she can’t think of anything to say.

Her first thought is that it isn’t her - _how can it be her?!_ \- after all these years of chasing, threatening, torturing, _clawing_ her way through her kingdom in search of the little bitch, how can it possibly be her? She cannot fathom that it is the outlaw Thief and his well-placed, simple arrows that finally, _finally_ , put an end to the madness. But she cannot be sure without examining the body, without being absolutely positive that it is Snow, before she allows herself an outrageously overdue moment of peace.

“Put it on the floor,” she commands the Thief, and he does as she asks, stepping forward and unceremoniously dropping the body at her feet with a sickening _ >thwump<_. She crouches quickly, pulling off the left shoe, ripping the stocking off and examining the ankle. And yes, there - three freckles in alignment that cross the inside of the ankle. It is her. It. Is. Her.

Pure, sweet, fairest in the land, pain in her ass, Snow-fucking-White, is dead at her feet.

Pure joy surges through her, and she moves up the body to the face. She leans in close until she is barely an inch away, staring deep into the cold, vacant eyes, and she soaks the moment in, letting all her stress and fatigue melt away as the magic in her blood rushes in anticipation of what she is about to do.

She shifts to the torso, grotesquely mangled with the the Thief's arrows sticking up out of it, and she quirks an eyebrow as she smiles maniacally up at him and praises in a low voice, “Thorough.”

He grins at her, and replies, “Well deserved, your Majesty.” It makes her stomach drop out, warmth spreading through her belly and down, _down_ , and she’s going to reward him for that kind of loyalty, just as soon as she’s through with her prize.

She rocks back on her heels, knees close but not touching the body, and an overwhelming sense of calm comes over her. Without preamble, she thrusts her hand between the mess of arrows, into the shredded chest, and she practically purrs with happiness as she rips out the heart of Snow White. Even in death it is blissfully pink, oh so innocent - and a wide grin splits the queen’s face as she finally, **finally** , crushes the organ into ash, shuddering with satisfaction.

Her Black Guard errupts into cheers and it startles her - in her shock she had completely forgotten that she is indeed surrounded by many of her loyal subjects in the great hall of her castle. Someone starts up a cheer of “Long live the Queen!” and the entire hall explodes into celebration, her guardsmen thrusting their swords heavenward and reaffirming their loyalty to their queen.

She stands quickly from the corpse and raises her voice to the crowd, “The traitor Snow White is dead -” cheers - “no thanks to any of you,” she deadpans. A concerned hush falls over the crowd, eyes falling to the floor. But she is too happy to castigate her followers today. Today, Snow White is dead, and her blood is rushing on an adrenaline high, and she’ll be damned if she wastes the feeling. “Go, celebrate, spread the word that your rightful queen is vindicated,” she states smugly and the crowd cheers again, takes up their chant in her honor once more, and she grabs the Thief by the arm and with a swirl of purple smoke, they disappear from the revelry.

 

____________________________________________________________________________

 

They reappear in her bed chambers, and before the smoke has cleared she’s got both hands on his chest, shoving him roughly against the bedroom door.

He’s grinning at her like the cat that got the cream and she’s smiling devilishly as she throws herself at him, pushing him into the door as her body comes into contact with his. She attacks his lips with hers, opening her mouth in more of a bite than a kiss, slipping her tongue into his mouth then nipping first his top lip, then the bottom.

His hands skim her body, looking for an opening - her long black gown dips almost to her waist in the front, embellished generously with diamonds, a slit up the side that reaches to just above her knee - she wants his hands on her skin but the beautiful dress restricts her movement, and with the way she is feeling right now, she wants to be able to _move_. He must read her mind, because his hands drop down and with a rough  < _yank > _ he rips the slit in her skirt all the way up to her waist.

She slaps his face for ruining her dress, but he just barks out a laugh and grabs hold of her choker necklace. Her eyes flare with outrage as he rips it from her, breaking the clasp, jewels flying in every direction, but then he’s sucking and nipping at her pulse point and she arches into him, tilting her head back to give him better access.

One of his hands strokes up her thigh through the slit in her dress, reaching inside to grab her ass and roughly haul her lower half up against him. He groans out a sharp, punctuated _Fuck_ as she rubs herself wantonly against him - he is already hard and straining against his trousers - she wants it inside her and she can’t wait - she is already so wet from her excitement and she can’t even remember the last time she had sex for the simple reason that _she wanted to_.

She grabs the lapels of his tunic and spins them, her foot catching the back of his ankle as they turn, and he laughs as they tumble onto the huge white fur rug that carpets the stone floor. She straddles him quickly, grinning down at him, her joy and excitement written blatantly across her face and she knows, _knows_ , she’s not being careful, she’s not keeping her mask on, but for fuck’s sake she just needs one goddamn minute to enjoy her victory.

She quickly unbuckles his belt, the clink of the metal and slither of leather as it comes undone slices through the heavy air surrounding them. His hands are running up and down her toned thighs, and he’s murmuring things like _fuck_ and _gorgeous_ and she can’t wait, her insides throb for him, she needs him to fill her up like she needs her next breath. His fingers slip beneath her undergarments, and she hisses through her teeth as his fingers slide unrestricted through her slick folds, lighting sparks of pleasure through her as he rubs and teases. She pulls him out of his trousers, her hand grasping and giving him a smooth pump, and he thrusts his hips up into her hand. She _mmmm’s_ her approval of him, his length and girth making her stomach swoop, a rush of warm lubrication seeping from her to coat his busy fingers.

She wants his hands, his tongue, on her, _in_ her, but she can’t right now - right now she needs his cock inside of her, so she flicks her hand and vanishes her undergarments, slides forward quickly and rubs the tip of his length through her swollen folds, smearing the head of it with her hot wetness. He throws his head back, groaning an _Oh god_ and then she positions him and sinks down, widening her stance along the way so she can take him all the way to the hilt. She makes an embarrassingly breathy _Ooooo_ sound once she’s on him, her internal muscles already squeezing and fluttering around him in her excitement. Raising up on her knees, she slides up, up, up the length of him, and then slowly back down, down, down. He makes a strangled noise in the back of his throat, gives her a look that says he _knows_ she torturing him, and she smirks and slides her hands under his shirt and scrapes her nails against his abdomen as she rises up again.

And she really wants this slow torture, the aching wind and build and tightening of her sex around him as she revs up-up-up, but she _needs_ to come, so she doesn’t keep up with her slow slide, starts shifting over him faster as his hands rub sensually across her thighs, her calves, her ass, her abdomen - whatever he can reach.

He feels so good inside of her, he is thick, pleasingly stretching her, and he’s so long, hitting her deep with each stroke so that she has to be careful of her positioning, careful not to take him _too_ too deep, but he fits inside her so tight and she can’t get enough. She speeds up, arching her back and swiveling her hips forward against him, the high ponytail of her thick black hair swinging with her movement. He moans in pleasure, catches on quickly and grasps her hips, helping her shift forward-back-forward-back-forward-back as she starts up a smooth rhythm. He slips his hands around to her ass, squeezing the cheeks, spreading her wide apart, and his fingers slip down the crevice, teasing against her rear entrance. She shudders at the sensation and picks up speed, loving the way he fills her, loving the way his hands feel against her skin. He drops his hands forward to her thighs to allow her to move in the way she wants, and she throws her head back, arches up, leaning back-back-back, until her hands land on his thighs, and _there!-oh god!_ that’s the _spot_ and his cock is rubbing directly against her most sensitive area and an _Ahhhh yes!_ spills from her lips. He thrusts up into her, matching her stroke for stroke as she bounces wildly on him, and he’s so hard and so deep and Snow White is dead and everything feels so _so_ good and she deserves this, deserves one fucking minute of ecstasy. She’s spiraling up - her body flushing, nipples tightening and a hot liquid heat pooling in her clit, tightening, tightening, getting slicker and swollen and she’s getting close, and then he’s talking to her, encouraging her with his words as his hot length slides inside of her, gasping “Fuck, you’re so tight,” and telling her “Take it, my Queen, take your pleasure” and then he grins conspiratorially at her like they’re part of Team Snow-White-is-Dead and that does it - she’s coming with a high pitched _Ahh-ahh-ahhhhhh_ and groaning in a full body shudder as her hips lose their rhythm - but he is still thrusting, keeping her up there as she spasms, spasms again, spasms a third fucking time - her thoughts going blank and her back arching sharply, fingernails digging into his thighs as she slams her eyes shut and rides out the explosion of stars and heat and lust inside of her.

She’s panting hard when she comes back down, her body glistening with sweat and sex and pleasure. He sits up quickly before she’s fully regained her senses, and he’s asking her “Mirror?” and her sex addled brain doesn’t understand the question. He repeats “Mirror?” so between breaths she responds with a confused, winded sounding, “On the wall,” gesturing with a wave of her hand to the floor length mirror on the other side of the room. In a flash he is moving, standing them up while he is still hard inside of her, his strong arms lifting her like she weighs nothing, and she makes a little surprised _Wha?!_ and instinctively wraps her legs around his waist, arms clutching his thick neck as he shifts her more securely onto his body. He takes four long strides to the other side of the room, hooks a leg of the little bench tucked under her dresser with his foot and swings it in the direction of the mirror. He stands before it, with her mounted on his cock, and she’s so stunned by the scenario she just goes with it - it seems he’s unpredictable in the best of ways, and he’s earned a reward, so why not let him play a little?

His hands grip her ass, massaging her cheeks and then he pulls her up and down his cock just a little, testing her readiness, her sensitivity, and she shivers against him as little shocks of pleasure swarm through her. He sits on the bench with her straddling him, grasps her by the waist and drops his mouth to hers. He’s anything but rushed now, even though she can feel him twitching inside of her, needing his release - but he’s denying himself, drawing it out as his lips slide against hers. He licks her lips, sucks on them, the remaining deep red of her lipstick smearing across his mouth and chin. His tongue glides in and out of her mouth, and he rocks his hips in time with it, fucking her mouth and sex in the same tempo. She _mmmm’s_ in pleasure, this slow, intense build is _doing things_ to her and she’s completely lost to him as his lips coast across her jaw, nipping a little, suckling a sensitive spot just beneath her ear.

She sucks in a quick breath in pleasure when his mouth makes its way down the deep vee of skin bared to him by her dress, and he licks and scrapes his teeth up both sides of it, moaning his desire for her against her skin. His hands slide up her ribcage to just below her breasts, and he makes eye contact with her, as if asking for her permission. She snaps a “Do it, Thief” at him, although it comes out more breathy than sharp, and his hands immediately pull at the vee in her dress, ripping it to her waist. Then he yanks again and the dress is sliding back and off of her completely, and she is naked in his lap, and impaled on his cock, and it all makes her fucking _hot_ for him. He drops his forehead to hers, panting, “Fuck, love, I can’t think when you squeeze my cock like that…” and she didn’t even realize she had done that, so she smiles wickedly at him and purposefully flexes her internal muscles. He groans hard, biting into the juncture of her neck and shoulder, losing control and thrusting up into her. She tries to take over then, plants her knees on the bench a little more securely and rises up to ride him, but suddenly he is grabbing her by the waist, standing quickly and dropping her legs, sliding out of her with an obscene wet sound, and then he’s turning her around and pulling her back down to the bench. He positions them so her back is pressed hard to his chest, his cock trapped between their hot bodies, and he grabs her knees, lifting them, sliding his knees under hers and locking her thighs wide open by catching the insides of her ankles with his feet.

She’s spread wide open for him, her tits and cunt on vivid display to both of them in the mirror, and she’s panting with just a tinge of panic and suddenly feeling insecure. She tries to close her legs, squirms a little on him, but his grip is firm around her waist and then he’s murmuring into her ear, tone serious as he says, “Who?” and she’s confused again, doesn’t understand these stupid games he suddenly insists on playing, but his hands squeeze her ribcage, jerk her back against him a little, hands sliding up to her plump breasts and flicking repeatedly over her nipples as he repeats, “Who is the fairest of them all?” She moans as he plays with her breasts, her eyes widening with realization of what he’s saying, and suddenly, sharply, she _feels_ beautiful - she _feels_ like she absolutely **is** the fairest of them all, and a smile forms on her lips as her gaze takes in the reflection of her hot, aroused body. She locks eyes with him in the mirror and says, strong, confident, “I am.”

“Fucking right you are,” he growls into her neck, his hands squeezing and rubbing her breasts, circling around and around, purposefully avoiding her nipples, and they are peaked and aching and she’s so aroused by this whole thing he’s doing, and she can’t stop watching them in the mirror. His hands shift, one sliding up her chest to her throat, then stroking all the way down across her flat stomach to her mons, cupping her sex, then smoothing back up. His other hand plays with her breast, pinching her nipple and twisting it between his calloused fingers, and she can feel her arousal seeping out of her, can feel his cock pulse against her back.

He runs both hands up-up-up to her hairline, gently removes the black headpiece she’d forgotten she was wearing, and slides his hands to the clasp holding her hair tight on top of her head. He slips it out like a pro, and this surprises her - that he knows his way around a woman’s accessories - but then his fingers card into her long hair, gently shaking it out and massaging her scalp. She lets her head drop back as he runs his fingers through the heavy, thick strands, and she moans with this unexpected pleasure.

He slides his hands back down her body, pausing at her breasts to squeeze the mounds of them, licks his thumbs and flicks them across her nipples, eliciting another _mmhmm!_ from her, and then his hands finally, _finally_ slide to her dripping sex.

His left hand massages her thigh, squeezes the flesh and paints a feather light caress over it, and his right hand slides down, down, down to her outer lips. She’s sopping wet, can _see_ how wet she is in the mirror, can see his face form into pure pleasure as his fingers skim lightly over her. Her hips jerk forward, out of her control, chasing his fingers as they skim further down to her opening and then back up.

“Oh god, you’re fucking dripping, Regina,” he breathes into her neck, and she doesn’t correct his use of her given name - _doesn’t care_ that he used it - is, in all honesty, even more turned on that he did. And anyway it’s true - she is quite literally dripping, her hot, slick want seeping from her sex and running down and moistening the velvet cushion of the bench beneath her, and right now she is herself _, is_ Regina - and she wants the Thief - no, she wants _Robin Hood_ \- to make her fucking come.

His fingers slide through her slick folds, rubbing up and down, slow and firm from her opening to her clit, not quite hitting her clit - circling it instead and going around and around it. Regina arches her back, thrusts her hips forward, and a sound like a whine - a sound she will never admit to - slips from the back of her throat.

“Ahhh that’s it, darling,” Robin whispers to her, his lips against the shell of her ear, his fingers circling, circling, circling, “Do you want to come?” he asks. Her eyes snap to his in the mirror, and she starts to scowl at him, but then his middle finger slides into her to the second knuckle, and her eyes instantly drop to watch him penetrate her.

His finger works her slowly, sliding in and out easily, coated in her thick, creamy juices, and he hums an “Oh-mi-god” into her cheek as he kisses and sucks the side of her neck, buries his nose in her dark hair and inhales deeply.

Her hand comes up to his neck, nails lightly scratching his scalp, and pulls his face deeper into her. Her other hand skims down his arm to his wrist - not directing his motions, but wanting to _feel with him_ as he slides a second finger into her.

He’s still holding her thighs wide open with his legs, her knees hooked over his, and her hips are thrusting freely onto his fingers as he dips them in…..out, in…..out, in…..out. The slow, lazy pleasure feels so, so good, and her body is starting to light up, clenching on his fingers, clit swollen and thick and needy for him.

He slides his other hand down to join the first, and with his thumb and ring finger, he spreads her outer lips wide. Her eyes are glued to his movements in the mirror - she is dying from the anticipation - and then his index and middle fingers press flat against her clit and begin to rub.

Regina’s head snaps back against his shoulder, an _Ah-mm-ohh!_ stammering from her lips as pleasure streaks through her clit, his other hand picking up a little speed and thrusting in and out, her wet, slick, need coating his fingers, his palm, the bench beneath her - obscene, wet, squelching sounds growing louder as his fingers pleasure her.

Her nipples are so tight, pleasure thrumming through them in time with her rapid pulse, her chest heaving wantonly - she can’t seem to catch her breath and it’s intoxicating, this place he has spiraled her up to. She’s making all these ridiculous noises, _mmmhms!_ and _ohhhhs!_ and _yessss’s_ flying off her tongue as she turns and buries her face into his neck, her eyes slipping closed as she leans back into his chest and lets him work her.

She is overwhelmed by the pleasure he’s pulling from her - at least that’s the reason she gives herself - when her lips find his jaw and she arches her neck, wanting to bring him pleasure too, remembering somewhere in the back of her mind that he _still_ hasn’t come while she’s well on her way to round two. As she nips and licks and sucks at his neck he makes this low, sexy, groan in the back of his throat and her hand turns his head to her. She kisses him, their tongues and teeth immediately dueling, and it’s hot and they’re both panting hard, and he’s rubbing her clit faster, faster, faster.

He increases the speed of his fingers, fucking into her harder, faster, with quick punctuated thrusts, and this has her hips bucking, that tight, tight pleasure deep inside of her starting to bloom and she’s seconds from coming. He rubs her clit quicker, circling, rub-rub-rub-rub-rubbing, his lips suck her earlobe and he’s whispering to her, “Look, look darling, look how fucking beautiful you are, Regina” - and she does, she looks at the mirror and sees her flushed, slick skin, the evidence of how his needy mouth has marked her neck and chest, breasts full and nipples perked with arousal, his hands glistening with her slick juices, and his hot, serious eyes on her, and it’s too much - she goes tight-tight-tight-tight and up-up-up-up-up-up and then she careens over the edge, sobbing out a _gahhhhhhhh_ sound, and her nipples _throb_ and her clit _throbs_ and her insides  _throb -_  she clenches over and over on his thrusting fingers, hot fluid absolutely gushing from her sex, coating his fingers, coating his palm and jesus it’s _running down his wrist_ \- and she can’t control it, she keeps coming so fucking hard, and he’s groaning in to her neck and thrusting his fingers into her, and hitting _that_ spot and massaging her clit. She’s bucking and grasping his neck to her like she’s drowning - and maybe she is - drowning in him - and finally, finally, with a last spasm and gush from her dripping cunt his fingers slow... slow……. slow, then cup her ultra sensitive flesh, and she starts to come down.

She’s lightheaded and breathing so hard, her chest rising and falling rapidly, and the hand not cupping her strokes up her body, strokes her stomach and chest - comforting, not stimulating - and she lets her head drop back to his shoulder, just breathing - just _finally_ breathing.

He kisses her shoulder, her neck, the side of her head. She lets herself rest for a minute, sleepy and sated and blissed out from her two, amazing orgasms, and she could stay here forever, she thinks. She feels whole, and for the first time in a very, very long time, it feels good to be less like the Queen and more like Regina.

“Shall I put you to bed?” he asks softly.

She _mmm’s_ lazily in affirmation and he lets her knees slide off of his, her thighs closing around his hand, still intimately pressed to her, and he strokes that hand across her thigh, leaving a damp trail across her skin.

Then he is shifting her, sliding her to the side as he stands and lifts her under her knees, her arms going around his shoulders, her face buried in his neck, as he carries her to her bed. She can feel his quickly cooling semen coating her back and feels a thrill of pride that he got off by pleasuring her. He places her on the bed and kisses her, and when he makes to pull back, she nips his bottom lip and grasps the lapel of his tunic, holding him close. He lifts his eyebrows in question, and she smirks at him as she slides further into her bed - feeling sexy, feeling like Regina, feeling alive and whole and _happy_ , and for this one moment she let's the Queen’s mask come off, and exposes her vulnerability to him as her dark chocolate eyes meet his crystal blues and she says simply, “Stay.”

 And he stays.

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimers:  
> Not mine - if they were, they would do this stuff all the time.  
> As an avid fanfic reader, please understand that any similarities to other works are pure coincidence and absolutely not intended.  
> I don't have a beta, so if you're interested, let me know.


End file.
